Do you ever wake up wondering where you might find the home of oxtail soup? Yeah, me too.
So with that question on our minds, Max and I left the Alpha Japanese Female working at the stove whipping up her famous fried rice and wandered out on the K Streets to see what we could discover.
First, we passed by the Butt Tree. The Butt Tree spreads next to a koi pond where a giant heron was recently spotted stealing fish. For those who remember that story I can report that the bird has not been seen in quite some time. It is unclear whether it relocated voluntarily or met with an unfortunate, uh, accident. Uncle Fish is mum on the subject.
Speaking of mysteries, will someone kindly explain why the window display at an adult DVD emporium would feature a pancake griddle?
It’s about this point that Max lets me know that his internal drive needs a major download so we quick time it to the broad green corporate lawns of First Hawaiian Bank where Max makes his deposit, I do the withdrawal, and we scurry on down to Kapi’olani Boulevard.
Kapi’olani is the wide, lovely street that forms the makai (ocean side) boundary of the K Streets. It is named after a Hawaiian royal.
Queen Kapiʻolani (1834–1899) was married to King David Kalākaua and reigned as Queen Consort of the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi.
Kalākaua Boulevard, the main drag through Waikiki, and Kapiʻolani Boulevard intersect at the site of the Hawaii Convention Center. Keeping the family together.
The good Queen’s name means “Arch of Heaven” referring to a rainbow. Fittingly, Max and I were lightly brushed with an early mountain shower that freshened the skin, enhanced the subtle fragrance of the koa trees lining our route and placed a partial ānuenue in the skies.
Max and I marveled that the beauty of a rainbow can be found even in the urban core of our town.
We hang a right and soon pass the European Lingerie Boutique which conveniently also sells shoes and dresses; a one stop sartorial parlor sans compare.
Having foolishly raised the issue of surfing in Paris in an earlier post I am now wise enough not to ask our readers from the Continent if this is representative of what their ladies actually wear.
I see London, I see France
I see Max’s underpants!
May be purple, may be pink
I don’t know, but they sure stink!
Don’t worry if the European lingerie is not a perfect fit, we have high class spots that can handle alterations, just look at the quality of their workmanship.
You don’t think these fine garments came from the tailor looking this good, did you? Nah, that would be too much to expect of 8 year old kids chained to sewing machines in a China sweatshop. But I digress.
Lingerie shopping can work up a mighty appetite; everybody knows that, so folks are happy to find a shabu shabu restaurant nearby. Shabu Shabu is a Japanese dish so, of course, this restaurant is operated by Vietnamese. This is normal in Hawaii.
Anyway, traditional Japanese shabu shabu features thinly sliced beef or seafood boiled in water. The term is an onomatopœia, derived from the sound emitted when the ingredients are stirred in the cooking pot.
The Vietnamese give it a new twist with…oh, for the love of all that’s holy…what exactly is #7, a “Volcano Pineapple Shabu Shabu”?
There are many service establishments along our route and one specializes in retouching older photos. They do quite a remarkable job. Not only is clarity enhanced, the gentlemen in the original photo at the bottom left has been transported to a Hawaiian beach at sunset, dressed in a suit and stripped of his colorful lei. The jaunty hat abides.
Off we go, but we always take a short detour to our favorite Korean cosmetics store which never disappoints in presenting new and exciting products not seen by the folks at Estée Lauder.
Today we are offered a choice of Broccoli Sprout Cleansing Cream, Panda Dream White Cream or Egg Pore which I imagine does something that Korean women understand and no Korean man needs to know.
By this point Max and I are tired and we know the fried rice is probably ready and while it may not satisfy like Volano Pineapple shabu shabu, we know it won’t have egg pores either.
Hungry, footsore and befuddled we turn for home only to see it – the answer to our quest. Asahi Grill, the home of famous oxtail soup.
So now we know. Another successful exploration of life and commerce within the K Streets.
Categories: Max's Stories